


Kakashi Week 2018

by FreakyPseudWriter



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Birthday, Family, Grief/Mourning, Icha Icha Series, Jounin, Kakashi Week 2018, Light Angst, Masturbation, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Team as Family, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-06 12:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15886068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreakyPseudWriter/pseuds/FreakyPseudWriter
Summary: All of my entries for KakashiWeek 2018 on Tumblr. Most of them will be angsty, one definitely will be NSFW and the rest with a Angst with a hopeful twist.





	1. Prompt 1: Jounin

„Congratulations, Kakashi.“ Minato-sensei smiled at the boy, who stood exhausted and heavily breathing in front of the man. Blood run over his small, slender hands, while the black eyes stared intently at his teacher. Always reading, always watching, always noticing anything. “You passed the last test. The proctors were highly impressed by your skills.”

“I made it.”

“Yes.”

Kakashi felt something, he knew it. There was a coil in his guts, a small movement, a fluttering of his stomach. But he had no idea what exactly moved him right now. Was it happiness, awoken by the fact that the goal he had worked for so long was finally in his hands? Was it melancholy, due to the fact he couldn’t tell his father anymore, who would’ve been proud beyond measures? Was it anger that the child couldn’t tell _anybody_ , all members of his family long dead and buried? 

Kakashi had no clue, thus continued to wipe the blood off his hands. It was better this way, he told himself as the red sunk into the black of his clothing, another step to become the perfect shinobi.

(A good shinobi had no emotions. No fluttering of his heart, no sinking of his stomach. No sickness rolling around like a heavy stone and no cold sweat tainting his palms. A good shinobi looked death in the eye and barely smirked, before the short motion of his confidence died.)

The waiting room for the jonin exams was bare of any comfortable furniture. Only a few plants, grey walls and hard chairs were waiting for the ones who thought they had to support the young and old chunin’s. Kakashi hadn’t said anything to his sensei about the exams and Minato hadn’t said anything about watching either, but here he was, beaming and waving at the boy like only a proud father could.

He was aware that Minato-sensei watched him too closely. Still, Kakashi finished the job and while he tried to scratch out the dried blood from underneath his fingernails, he chased away the strange feeling in his guts, fluttering and the tiniest bit warm.

“When is our next mission, sensei?”

(A good shinobi didn’t care about his achievements. He recognized them as what they were, as stepping stones and hurdles to overcome, not something to be proud of or even boast about.)

There was always the next mission to prove himself. The next target to kill, the next person to protect, the next infiltration. And Kakashi would be the best shinobi there was.

“Yes,” Minato-sensei answered and tugged a slim scroll out of his vest, “there is, actually. An important one on top of that. And your rank as a jonin will help us achieve our goals. I’m counting on you, Kakashi.”

The boy merely nodded. The rank of a jonin. One only a handful of people achieved and one which was also the most prestigious all over the different shinobi villages. Only ANBU’s and the Kage’s themselves were higher situated than a jonin. And he, Kakashi, a six-year old, bested the other participants. Had been smarter, had been faster, had been more vicious towards the victory than them.

He did it. He would show Konoha he wasn’t like his father at all, would show them that the name “Hatake” could be worn with pride still. Kakashi wouldn’t become his father. No, he would follow the rules to the very end.

(Rules are there to follow. If somebody can’t follow the rules, they are scum and a hindrance to the mission. And the mission is a shinobi’s life. Nothing else counts but the mission.)

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“You know what happened later.”

Rain pattered down on his head, soaked his hair until it caved in. The mask was plastered against his skin, finally _being_ the second skin so many people wanted to look underneath. Kakashi sighed lowly, the puff of air mingling with the strips of water raining down on him and chilling him to the bones. “Obito, you know what happened later on. The mission to the Kannabi Bridge, Rin getting captured, me being… being a total brat and lost cause, you being the person we needed desperately and I didn’t deserve, losing my eye, you awakening your sharingan, fighting together…” At the memory of their first-time and yet almost perfect teamwork they both showed that day, Kakashi’s mouth twitched into a short-time smile, only to die just as fast to the gloomy mood overtaking his mind. “Saving Rin, releasing the gen-jutsu, trying to run… And then…”

The boulder in his newly created blind spot. A mistake. He hadn’t adjusted fast enough, the blood loss and the chakra exhaustion making it even more difficult to listen and react to his surroundings. Even decades later, Kakashi asked himself what would’ve happened if he had seen that boulder, if he had been able to dodge the deadly rock without his friend needing to sacrifice himself for scum like him.

The rain grew stronger. Kakashi raised his head from the blackened memorial to the grey, heavy skies above him, his black and red eye unseeing and blind to the present.

“I know, I know,” he said and tried to grin, “I’m being gloomy again. It’s just this time of the year, you know?”

Dozens of different bouquet’s laid in front of the lonely memorial. Footprints of other ninja’s and sometimes civilian’s were sprawled over the earth around the block of stone, easily detectable for Kakashi even in the darkness of the night. Only the stars and the sickle of the moon illuminated the place as he lowered his body to touch warily the place where he knew Obito’s name was imprinted into the cold granite.

“The day of the fall of the Kannabi Bridge.” Memories of more battles, explosions and blood spilling over his hands rose before his inner eye, and Kakashi let them. “A lot of people celebrate that day as a joyous occasion. For me… You know what it is.”

A day to remember why Kakashi was still here, walking on the earth and allowed to see the present. Because Obito sacrificed himself. Because Rin took the heaviest decision of all into her own small hands, only to gingerly drop them into his careless one’s. Because Minato-sensei offered his own life and Kushina’s in exchange for the survival of the village.

His entire life was built on death. Death was the only reason he was still in this world and not in the afterlife. If he would even reach _that_ , that is.

Because greater people than himself took it upon themselves to protect scum like him.

Kakashi sighed. A heavy sigh, born from the deepest depths of his lungs. “I just wish I had been faster. Seen clearer, not been that blind. It… It hurts to know I caused all of this.” Another sigh, only a tad bit lighter than the first one. “Like always, I can only give you my empty words, Obito. Still nothing else, I’m sorry. Another empty apology.”

Rain ran into his eyes, underneath his clothes, clung to his skin. A cold shiver settled into Kakashi’s bones, chilling the man until goose bumps peppered his arms. Suddenly, he jerked around. There was someone out there in the woods, watching him from the distance. Maybe another shinobi who wanted to pay his respects to the dead in the loneliness of the night.

Thus, Kakashi turned around again, lowering his voice to a level were even he had problems hearing his own words.

“People like you should’ve become jonin. You should’ve lead the team that day. You should’ve lived and become Hokage. People like you who support their comrades, protect with them with all their strength should be the pillars of our village. Not trash like me, who can only kill and kill and kill a little bit more without a regard for his comrades.”

Slowly, his bones aching and hair dripping, Kakashi moved upwards. A last, pained glance at the memorial, before he spoke his last sentence. One he always said when he left the memorial behind and headed for his cold, lonely home.

“You’re the one who should’ve lived, Obito.”


	2. Prompt 3: Grief

When Minato presented Kakashi the opportunity to join ANBU, he had to keep himself from breaking into tears of joy. Instead of sobbing into his hands like his inner child would’ve liked to do, Kakashi suppressed the last part of him which would be a danger for the dangerous missions lying ahead of him. The ground under his knees was hard and unforgiving when Kakashi accepted the offer.

The offer others would see as a huge responsibility and even more people would see as a huge burden.

For Kakashi, it was neither. For him, being a faceless tool in the hands of his village was a salvation.

No more thinking. No choices. No, absolutely no responsibility for anyone else but himself.

Yes, Kakashi had to keep himself from smiling weakly when he accepted his sensei’s offer. Being an ANBU was exactly what he wanted. No, what he needed.

When Kakashi received the grey and black tinted armor, he didn’t hesitate for a second. Eagerly, his callused yet small hands stripped the masquerade of the well functionating child-soldier off and pulled the soon-to-be fitting suit of the heartless ANBU on. The leather was impregnated and strengthened to withstand rain, blood and incoming attacks, the boots durable and seemed warm even with the toes exposed to the fresh air. Deliberate, piece for piece, Kakashi could feel himself change. Change into something he didn’t know yet.

Everything was better than being what he was now.

Vulnerable.

Only the porcelain mask was missing to make the transformation complete. Kakashi weighed it in his hands as he paused. In the dimly lit changing room, there was only one mirror. Until now, the boy managed to avoid looking at his reflection. But now, when he was so close to leave everything he knew behind and would be part of something he didn’t fully understand, his vision shifted to the lake-like surface and got stuck.

He paused, the white mask halfway raised. Kakashi paused and looked; looked at the familiar uniform of an elite ninja. The same one he found underneath the bed of his father when Kakashi was clumsily hunting for his colorful ball, only two years old. Looked at the curve of his nose and the strange softness of his spiky hair, at the hidden beauty mark right underneath his masked mouth.

Mementos of his long dead mother. Cold and buried before Kakashi would even have the chance to save some of her presence for his memory. He had no idea how she looked like; her picture was only alive because of the tales of his father. Dying right after she gave birth to him, with a little, knowing smile on her face, that was what Sakumo used to say.

Kakashi saw the distinct silver of his hair, the same color everyone could see without trying too hard, the black of his own eye and the general form of his face. Mementos of his father - _the traitor, an evil voice whispered, even after all these years-_ who lived long enough to give him the first happy memories of his life and managed to turn them into resentful ones.

He saw the red swirling in the foreign eye which he had to call his own by now and the long, prominent scar bisecting the belonging eye socket. He saw the weight of the guilt still on his shoulders, the memories of his freshly buried friends, the grief and the pain and the raw nerve Kakashi became, open for any little thing to hurt him more than the one before.

Every breath he took was on stolen time. Time he stole off his mother, time he stole off his father, _life and time_ he stole off his friends, _off Obito and Rin,_ both dead because of him-!

Never again Kakashi took so little to put on the mask which laid down a path away from his feelings.

( _But never out.)_

When Hound stood for the untempt time over the body of his eliminated target, hands bloody and still prickling with the energy of the lightning, he had abandoned the identity “Kakashi” a long time ago. Sure, people who knew him before, knew his half-masked face and his typically slouched posture, would still shout out the name in the streets to invite him for a tea, a bowl of ramen or dango. He declined every time with a nonchalant wave over his shoulder, nose buried in the words of another book he would buy in the second-hand section of his trusted book shop.

These people had no clue that “Kakashi” was dead. There was only Hound now, who only played the part of the silent jounin. Hound breathed and talked like the other people around him. But he was alive and the most alive he felt when he was hunting down his next target.

Not while he read another book, not when he stood by the memorial, not when he was in his bedroom and tried to forget his never-ending pain in the body of a stranger.

Hound was alive because Kakashi was dead. And with him died the inconvenient memories which used to send Kakashi to his knees and only made Hound shrug when he killed an enemy with his personal jutsu.

Because it was just a technique, nothing else.

( _A reminder of his greatest failure.)_

When Hound felt the earth vibrate beneath his feet, heard the deep growl of pure rage at humanity, smelled the biting sulfur and the sheer wrongness, saw the unholy, bright orange of the demon fox roaming free, Kakashi woke up again.

Kakashi knew what that meant. It meant that Kushina was dead and the unborn baby too. Wife and child of the last person important to him, the last person he cared for. Minato. Minato was alone now, just like him.

And he was fighting the monster, Kakashi thought when the red of the monstrous eyes sways over the village, seeking for his enemy, Minato was fighting the demon currently. He was fighting it and needed help! Kakashi needed to help his sensei, run to him and save him-!

A dark shadow fell over his mind as soon as he really thought about it. For the whole, terrible night, Kakashi would think about the chances, calculated and counted and against his better judgement, _prayed_ to the gods for the safety of his sensei.

The pictures are back. Pictures which won’t leave him alone, pictures which make him see a brown-haired girl with a wide hole in her chest, a boy crushed by a boulder, a man bleeding slowly out, a tanto stuck in his lower abdomen-!

Every time Kakashi saw an illusion in his peripheral vision, he stumbled. Every time, he managed to regain his footing, even though the dark premonition only grew stronger.

When the announcement came, Kakashi wished he could be surprised. He really did. But the slight shock was overshadowed by the knowledge he was bringing death to everyone around him. To simply everyone who was dear to him.

Around Kakashi erupted the most different reactions of terror and sadness. Should he also scream and wail, his hands rising to rip at his hair? Should he start to sob dramatically into his hands, the real tears only coming later, in the loneliness of his empty and cold apartment? Should he…?

Mother, gone. Father, gone. Obito and Rin, both gone. And now Minato and Kushina and _Naruto_ , all three of them, a little blooming family destined to do great things. Also gone, leaving Kakashi behind. ( _Naruto lived, he would learn later, much, much later.)_

Living, yes. But only barely holding on.

Later, hidden away in the darkness and coldness of his own home, Kakashi realized Hound was gone too. The persona he carefully built on death, cruelty and destruction fled as soon as another loss was impending.

Only now, Kakashi cried, eyes wide open and lips tightly shut. He stared blindly into the air and cried, while his hands balled the blanket pooling in his lap. He didn’t know for how long or what happened exactly during that period. Kakashi only knew that he woke up to he faint realization he had to change something, but also didn’t know what or how much. The spark was buried underneath the rain-stained burial of his sensei and his wife and the clouds hanging over his head.

The spark only returned when the Third ordered Kakashi to take over a genin team and when he agreed - _hesitantly, but he did-_ the spark turned into a weak candle-flame, easy to erase and yet stubbornly cutting through the night.


	3. Prompt 4: Icha Icha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi has some me-time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Masturbation. 
> 
> That's the only NSFW content I will post for this event, I swear ^^''

It was time. Kakashi Hatake wasn’t famous for his sexual needs, not at all. No woman or man in the whole fire country knew about his preferences, his kinks and no-go’s. And he liked it that way. Every time he needed a release, a little bit of the relaxation a good, long nap couldn’t fulfil, he would transform into a random man and visit a brothel, where he would indulge into his little games.

Sometimes though, he wasn’t in the mood. Sometimes, the disgusting smell of a well-visited brothel or the slightly sick whore which would fake a smile would turn Kakashi off than on. Then, it was time to take the matter into his own hands, with the help of his favorite lecture, of course.

Today was such a day. Therefore, Kakashi pulled all the blinds of his small flat closed, locked the door and undressed himself to his boxers, before he settled down on his bed. A shiver of anticipation run down his spine as his hands slithered over the pages.

“Well, let’s see…” Talking to himself filled the otherwise empty flat with a little bit of life. Kakashi opened the _Icha-Icha-Paradise_ and brushed through the chapters, stopping once in a while to assess if he was in the mood for that special steamy encounter. “Mhm… Beach scene? No. Sem-public sex? Not today, I believe. Mhm, difficult…”

His fingers hovered over a rather tame part of the book. Unbelievably tame in comparison to the rest. Sex in a bedroom, two partners, missionary. His brain delivered all the facts on instinct, the entirety of the text branded a long time ago into it.

“Mhm…” Kakashi seemed still hesitant, though his body had already decided for him. He was half-hard, his dick straining against the confines of his underwear, while one hand already strolled over his lower abdomen, caressing the sensitive skin around the navel just like the female lead did.

 

_Kaito gasped when her cold hands wandered lower and lower. Spiraling, leaving trails of tingles in her wake, Aiko’s hands caressed his whole body. His shoulders, trailing strings of muscles with a tenderness he only knew from stories. His chest, teasing his nipples until they perked upwards, making Kaito squirm and pant. And Aiko’s hands spiraled even lower, down to his navel and playing with the wiry hair of the snail’s trail._

_“Is that good?” Her words came breathless, half moan and half whisper. “Do you feel good?”_

_He could only nod. Lust swirled in his stomach and lower, pulsing through his blood, thrumming in his ears._

Kakashi’s eyes were glued to the pages. Hastily, he followed the lines further, while his right hand teased his nipples. Rolling the sensitive skin, pinching and stroking, until they were hard and a little sign escaped him. He bit his lips as he felt the first motion deep in his guts at the well-known words and his own, teasing ministrations. His body reacted, shivered and heated up, while his brain was captured in the scene of the book.

 

_Aiko licked her devilishly red lips. “You know what I want. You know what I need.”_

_“Yes. I know, I know. Come here.” Kaito said and offered his love a hand. When the woman gracefully slid into his lap, her sex pressed to his hard dick. He growled lowly and did it again when the succubus rolled her hips against him. “You like this too, huh?”_

_“More than you know.”_

_“Show me how much you like it.”_

_When a little grin spread on Aiko’s face, Kaito fell in love all over again. This woman was simply perfection in human form, a goddess only made for him. Out of all men, she selected him to be worthy of her presence and he would worship her for that decision until his last breath._

Kakashi’s own breath quickened the tiniest bit. A sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead as he started to tease his by now fully hardened cock, still clothed and his touch still as light as a feather. Only two fingers, gliding up and down the hardness straining against the coarse fabric. Slow and mocking, mimicking the languid seduction of Aiko, Kakashi closed his eyes. The words danced still through his mind, imprinted into his brain from the years of enjoying the same series of smutty novels.

 

_“Love you,” Aiko breathed while her hips rocked back and forth, “Love you, Kaito. Do you love me too?”_

_“Yes,” the man couldn’t contain the raw lust any longer. With a roar, he rolled them around, sweat-glistening bodies shuffling in the linen around. “I love you. Love you more than anything in the world. Aiko, my moon.”_

_“My sun.” She moaned loudly into his ear as Kaito moved against her, hips bumping into hips. His cock dragged across her wet slit and Aiko shuddered, her head thrown backwards and her neck an invitation to bite and nose the sensitive flesh._

By now, his breath ragged through his chest. Kakashi heaved, swallowed and finally closed his fingers around his cock. The moment the colder hand engulfed the scorching hot flesh, a sigh escaped him, relieved and tormented at the same time. By now, the man was thoroughly enthralled. Nothing could stop him from reaching that peak. Even when Naruto had the goddamn nerve to storm into his room.

Kakashi grunted. No, this wasn’t the time to think of his most annoying student. This was him-time, alone for him and he needed the relief after all the stress during the last weeks. Instead of thinking any disturbing thoughts, he tried to concentrate on the scene again.

Aiko and Kaito. Making love after she had been rescued from the fangs of the evil twin brother of Kaito. Just a slight bump on the road, nothing else.

Kakashi breathed in, dragged his hand down and sighed lowly when the friction of his dry hand on his aching cock made his spine arch. Blindly feeling around, he fiddled for the small tube of lube and dribbled some over his fingers, before slipping his hand again underneath the rubber band of his underwear. Again, his spine arched into the touch. Kakashi circled the tip with his index finger, but when the fabric of his boxers got in the way, he ripped it away, growling lowly.

 _Finally._ Cool air met the hot dick, which twitched and enjoyed his ministrations far too much to stop now. At first slowly, then with growing intensity, he pumped his fist. Self-indulgent lust coiled right behind his navel, making Kakashi’s toes curl and spine stiffen. Little whimper’s floated through the air and in the back of his mind, the man was aware they were falling from his lips. In the foreground was the touch of his hands though, the thin coat of lube, the slick sounds, the huffing of his breath, the blood thundering in his ears and the heat crawling through his veins.

 

So close. Kakashi shuddered violently, while his other hand joined the first and carefully massaged his aching balls. Another groan, another breathless mumble escaped. He was so close. His fingers danced over the sensitive skin, gliding over the three prominent veins, running over the slit on the mushroom-shaped head, only to slide down and adding just _the_ right amount of pressure to send lightning into his stomach.

Faster. _Faster_ , a little bit harder, just a tiny bit more, a twist of his wrist and Kakashi gasped out. The hazy question if he wanted this to end so quickly floated into his mind, but then, his body took the decision into his own hands. Quite literally.

Kakashi keened when his hands speed up, pumped, caressed, fondled further. Sweat poured over his forehead and plastered the silver tresses to his skin. Frantically shuffling around, his neck bending backwards until his neck was bare and vulnerable. A last, desperate groan, then…

White spurts of cum splattered over his stomach. Warmth, heat, fire and lightning, zapping through his body, leaving the usually tense man nearly melting into the mattress of his hard bed. Every further pump of his hands only prolonged the delirious rush, the wooly, absent-minded high, the jittering sensation of his bones and soul.

His chest heaved when Kakashi came down from the peak. His eyes blinked rapidly, once, twice, only to focus again on the mess he made, the ruffled linen of his bed, the sticky liquid sticking to his abs and slowly dripping down, his legs spread out and sweat-stained like the rest of his body.

“Hm…” A low hum vibrated through his chest when another thread of quickly cooling cum rolled down and started to dry in the fabric of his rolled down boxers. “…Am I too lazy to clean it up?”

The post-orgasmic feeling and the exhaustion of a long day were about to kill his consciousness, after all. But still, he couldn’t fall asleep with the rest of his cum clinging to his body. With a tired sigh, Kakashi heaved himself out of the cushions and staggered into the bathroom, leaving behind the bedroom filled with the smell of sweat and the worn-out yet well-cared Icha-Icha-book, lying on the bed with the colorful wrap facing the ceiling.

Well-cared and well loved. Literally.


	4. Prompt 7: Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghosts aren't real. And still, Kakashi mets someone who he didn't think he would ever see again.

Ghosts weren’t real. Ghosts had no value. Pretty stories to tell children when they lost their parents way too early, a good night story to ease the tears of loss and longing away. Kakashi heard them too and he had never believed them. Never believed in them like the other children around him, never thought his mother was watching him from out of the sky or that his father was proud of him with every test he took and passed with top marks. 

His mother was dead. She couldn’t watch over him from the skies, she was deeply buried underneath layers of earth and dirt. His father was dead, sliced open by his own tanto, eyes closed and never seeing again except the inside of a wooden casket. 

They were gone, their souls or whatever kept a human sane spirited away into the abyss of nothingness. 

(Heavy thoughts for a child, he would realize later.)

Later on, Kakashi would start to believe in reincarnations. The first time the possibility of souls going into an infinite cycle of being reborn and dying came to his mind was also the first time he threw a look at another team of annoying genin to take care of. A blond boy, resembling so much his father that, for a moment, Kakashi had to close his eyes and fight off the tears and pain blooming in his heart. A petite girl, her hair as pink as a sakura petal, resembling so much Rin that Kakashi gagged almost behind his mask, the burn of acid in his throat making the feeling of being a failure only worse. And a lone boy. Orphan, genius, broody. So much like him that Kakashi even quickly asked himself if he had died and all this time, everything was an illusion. 

He shook the foul feeling off, the weight on his shoulders and the shame burning freshly in his mind. The only one who was missing was Obito. 

(Obviously too late. Like always.)

From there on, Kakashi was more and more convinced rebirth was a thing. And more than once, he asked himself if his own soul would go back into that endless cycle or that some kind of deity would pluck at the end of his life the pitiful crumbs of humanity out of his bones, deem him worthless and throw him into a maelstrom of hatred and guilt.

(Like he deserved, probably.)

That is, until he was really standing at death’s doorstep. Not a nail, not a powerful enemy jutsu was the cause of his end. No, chakra exhaustion and the absolute devotion to save his village by providing necessary information were Kakashi’s downfall. One second, he was staring at the blue, wide sky, his body encased by debris of destroyed buildings and rubble. The next, Kakashi merely blinked and stared into a wide darkness. In the distance burned a camp fire and a lone silhouette was sitting on a tree trunk, surrounded by other tree trunks for other lost souls like Kakashi.

With every step he made towards the fire, the man realized more and more who was exactly waiting for him and he couldn’t be more flabbergasted.

(He expected a reaper, a corpse in the shape of his lost friend, half of his body crushed and haunting him with blame.)

“Hello, son.” Sakumo said and smiled when Kakashi stepped into the flickering light.

“Father.” No other sign he knew the man. With a weary sigh, the freshly died shinobi settled down, his knees spread apart and forearms placed on his knees. Even though he rationally knew he couldn’t feel the touch of warmth anymore, the fire still managed to seal away the chilling cold in his bones. 

Silence fell over them like a thick blanket. Except for the weak crackle of the camp fire, nothing disturbed the darkness around them, leaving Kakashi to his confused thoughts and Sakumo to his patient waiting until his son was ready. 

“Did you ever regret it?” Kakashi asked finally. “Did you ever regret… your choice?”

The only choice which mattered. The one choice which left Kakashi not only motherless, but fatherless too, a traumatized orphan, pushed around by the authorities until they decided his genius-genes were enough to support him when living alone. 

The bright flame danced in Sakumo’s dark eyes while he continued to stare blindly into the fire for far longer than Kakashi could bear. Then, just when he was about to stand up and go away, the old man spoke, the husky voice a strong reminder of his childhood. “I had a long time to regret a lot of things. Far longer than any other souls I met. My hands are dirty, but so are most shinobi’s. But what I regret the most was my very last choice, to end my life and not seeing that not only my life would end, but yours would be affected too.”

“Is that the infamous insight of the dead?”

“No, only the eyes of a fool finally being open.” Sakumo sighed lowly. “Now, we have a lot of time here. Why don’t you tell me what happened afterwards? After I let you down?”

And Kakashi told him. Told his father about Obito, about Rin, about Minato and Kushina, about all the ghosts which crossed his path and how he had to keep on living, not willing to follow the footsteps of his father to the very end and yet the option never too far away from his thoughts. About Naruto, Sasuke and Sakura, the three quirky genin who dragged him back into life, about Gai with his challenges and rivalry, about Yamato, easy to tease and easy to calm down afterwards, about the happenings right now in the village, the attack of Pein and the circumstances of Kakashi’s own death.

When the younger man fell silent, he could feel Sakumo’s eyes on him, measuring and oozing the unbearable sympathy Kakashi detested so much. 

“Don’t.” he warned. 

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Your look is enough.”

“I’m not looking anywhere.”

“It isn’t about where you look, but what your look says. I don’t want your sympathy. I don’t need it.” Before Sakumo could object, Kakashi continued, the anger from years and decades spent alone burning through his words. “It is about the days I asked myself what I did wrong to deserve being left alone. It is about the nights I woke up from the nightmares of you dying under my hands. It is about the empty house, the blood on my hands, the need to prove I wasn’t like you, the stupid child I was to abandon my friend when she needed help. The years I spent in ANBU, hating myself and the world, for leaving me alive while all the people I loved left me behind.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Sakumo answered. His hands, callused and strong, were entangled and twitched like spiders fighting each other. “I don’t know. I never thought you would become like this. I never…”

“You never wanted this?” Kakashi hissed. “You never wanted me to become a stickler to the rules, because you didn’t follow them? You never wanted what exactly?”

“To become resentful. You were a gentle child, Kakashi.”

Out of all the possible answers, this was the one the younger man didn’t expect at all. His mouth was already opened to throw more accusations at his old man, more descriptions of his miserable life, but Sakumo glanced at him again, in the similar, black eyes so much raw feeling that Kakashi closed his mouth out of instinct.

“You were gentle,” his father continued, voice low and husky, “Always, always gentle. If not for your scary talent to create the most impressive fire-jutsu at the tender age of three, I would’ve never sent you to the ninja academy. I wanted you to enjoy your childhood. To live it, like I never had the chance. I always had your well-being in my mind, Kakashi, except for the mission which was my downfall and my suicide.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“No.” Sakumo chuckled dryly. “I guess not.”

“No apology?” 

“Would one erase all the years? Would one make you forgive me?”

Nothing left to say. Nothing left to mention. Silent, Kakashi shuffled on the tree trunk and joined his father in staring blindly into the flickering flames. Death would be a long deal if they were going to turn in circles. His father, the once proud and nice shinobi, strong like no other, was beaten down. Still beaten down by the mission which got wrong, still beaten down by the insults and whispered threats behind his back, still beaten down by the fall of his status. Sakumo thought he did the right thing by saving a member of his team. And from the point of a human life, he did. Rationally though, he screwed the team in its entirety over, caused indirectly the third shinobi world war and left his only child on his own.

But Kakashi grew. Grew despite the loneliness, despite the gnawing feeling of hollowness at his stomach, despite the hole in his chest, despite the bad attitude he showed in his early years. Grew up and grew in mind, grew to be someone who could understand the decision of his father on more levels than one.

“You know,” Sakumo flinched when Kakashi spoke up, low and soft and distinctively changed to the angry accusations of before, “I’m also… I’m also proud of you.”

Black, widened eyes met black, weakly smiling eyes. 

“I’m proud of you,” Kakashi repeated, while continuing to stare into the flames, “because to save that comrade on the mission, to put a human life over the objective, that was the best decision. Not the right one, but the best you could make without all the information. And for that, I look up to you. Dad.”

Just when the last syllable of the last word left his tongue, Kakashi felt a weird pull around his navel. A tug, then a mighty suck high up, higher and higher. The darkness faded to the light and when the first breath of many others filled his lungs and the strong rays of the sun warmed his masked face, Kakashi thought he still could hear the faint “Thank you,” whispered by a grateful ghost who was finally released into the afterlife. 

Maybe now Sakumo’s soul could go into the cycle of rebirth and death again. Kakashi’s lips twitched upwards again, before he sat up and looked around a destroyed Konoha, the debris of countless of homes and lives scattered all over the place.

Strangely, the day didn’t look too bad to the man. The world came down around him, Kakashi had been dead for a few hours, but still.

The sky was still blue and the sun was still shining. Another smile flashed over his masked face. Actually, the day seemed pretty good to him.


	5. Prompt 8: Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi wakes up after a night of drinks and more drinks and is confronted with his worried team.

The smell of scrambled eggs, freshly squeezed orange juice and really strong coffee assaulted Kakashi’s nose. With a wrinkle of his nose, he turned around and buried his face in the pillows. Yeah, much better. Wet dog and his own, dried sweat. Much, much better.

Then, a group of porcupines started to dance polka in his brain. Kakashi groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to remember what happened to deserve such a nasty headache. Without using his brain too much to not animate the porcupines to more dancing, of course.

Yesterday… What happened yesterday? Kakashi tried to recall, but every time he nearly had a grasp on the foggy pictures, they ran through his fingers like water. What happened? Why did his head hurt so much? Why did his tongue feel like it suddenly mutated into a furry worm? Where did the taste of rotten eggs come from? Why were his limbs so heavy and light at the same time?

So many questions, so little hints. At least, Kakashi had a vague idea why he felt like dying right after waking up. A hangover. A really bad one, in top of that. He knows the symptoms like the back of his own hand. Knows them inside and out, because…

Yeah, because.

Suddenly, the memories come back, crashing into Kakashi with the force of a waterfall. Burying his head deeper into the pillow wasn’t helping and still, the man tried to hide in the depths of his safe bed. There was nothing else to do than bear the shame and guilt coming with the memories, the self-hatred which was stronger than ever.

It was always like this. Always, always, always. Every day, week for week, month for month, only to spark in this special night and this special kind of celebration of a nightmarish tradition.

 

Kakashi gave in to his craves for that special kind of celebration a long time ago. He had no problem admitting he was a weak and faulty man. No, he flaunted his personal mistakes and edges with every flip of his publicly known smutty novels and every minute he came too late to an important meeting.

But drinking too much, barfing all over the place and not remembering how he got home… Most shinobi, _scratch that_ , all shinobi would definitely say latent alcoholism was one of the biggest temptations a tool like him could fall for. Shrouding one’s mind into fog, willingly giving up the security of his own thoughts and lowering his barriers that much…

A roundabout way of committing suicide.

Kakashi groaned again into the pillows. The scent of scrambled eggs and orange juice intensified, assaulting his nose with the acid-rich and strong whiffs. He buried his face deeper into the pillow, groaning and moaning, until a voice rung throughout his bedroom, obnoxious and unnervingly loud.

“Morning Kakashi-sensei! Man, that must’ve been a wild party for you to get this wasted, believe it!”

Naruto. The nail in his coffin. The very enthusiastic and booming nail in his coffin, parading around with a plate and a glass of orange juice. With a Cheshire-grin, the blond settled both things on the nightstand, all the while continuing to blabber and ramble on. “We found you in front of your apartment. Oh man, you didn’t even recognize us! Asked if we have seen the green bear who wanted to sing you to sleep. And you weren’t that excited to get dragged to bed by Sasuke and me, tried to wiggle free! In the end, Sakura had to… well…” A nervous laugh vibrated through the air. “She was annoyed that you tried to flip her skirt up when she threw you over her shoulder. Could be that you have some bruises?”

 

Slowly Kakashi came to the realization that Naruto had no idea he was awake. It was only his usual flood of words the blond always released. He often did it when he thought he was alone, unnoticed by other people or in the emptiness of his own apartment. A method to keep the silence away. Kakashi knew it too well, he had used the same when he had been five and the blood in Sakumo’s room still filled the air with the scent of copper.  

The porcelain of the plate clinked on the wood of the nightstand as Naruto placed it on top of the smaller furniture. Kakashi watched with cautious eyes, every muscle in his body taut and ready to leap forward. Forward to the delicious breakfast, which would fill and nurture him, maybe even chase some of the wooly feeling in his bones away.

But then, the rest of the drinks slowed the man down. Just in the moment Naruto turned around and away, his bright, blue eyes fell on Kakashi, who couldn’t close his eyes quick enough to pretend to be asleep.

The instant Naruto realized his hungover sensei was awake and noticeably miserable, a mean grin spread on his scarred features. “Oh, good morning~,” he chimed in a happy falsetto-tone which send lightning into Kakashi’s brain, “And what a beautiful morning it is, believe it!”

New porcupines joined the first group and with a low groan, the silver-haired man crawled deeper into the cushions. “Stop…” he whined, “Please, for the love of the gods, stop…”

“Sakura-chan! I think the punch you gave Kakashi-sensei broke him!”

Kakashi whined at the hollered shout. Couldn’t Naruto be silent for one time? Only _once_?

Hasty steps, thundering over the wooden ground like a herd of elephants made their way to the nearby water hole, caused the shinobi to wince and grimace again.

Fine shinobi. Couldn’t even walk without causing a ruckus. He really should speak with their sensei, he apparently did a really poor job…

_Oh yes. I was their sensei. Well, another thing I can take the blame for, I guess._

 

Sakura was even quirkier and more awake than Naruto, if that was even possible. With a wide yet strained smile on her face, the only female in their team took great pleasure in slamming the door open and stomping over, causing Kakashi to groan loudly and bury his face in the pillows. “Good morning, Kakashi-sensei!” she chirped.

Every syllable was underlined by another stomp until she _finally_ reached the bed. She tried to look innocent, but only managed to look like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, all the while rocking back and forth on her heels with her arms crossed in her back. “Had a nice sleep, _sensei_?”

“Go away,” he grumbled into the cushions, “I don’t like you guys anymore.”

“But when we defeated Kaguya, you said you liked us!” Naruto pouted. _Pouted_. The blond and blue-eyed savior of the world, container and tamer of the most stubborn tailed beast, candidate for the Hokage post when Kakashi was allowed to finally retire, _pouted_. The full wombo combo. His bottom lip jutted the tiniest bit out, crystal blue eyes slightly widened, and wasn’t that the hint of tears sparkling in the sunlight? “How mean, Kakashi-sensei! You’re so mean!”

Sakura was quick to catch onto the blond’s plan. With a devilish spark in her eyes, she mimicked her comrade and friend, talking in an overly sweet and sugary tone which send shivers of disgust down Kakashi’s spine. “Yeah, Kaka-sensei is _soooo_ mean! When we stood up extra early to make some breakfast for your hangover!”

“Brats.” Kakashi grumbled. Yet despite the snarky comment, he heaved his body into an upright position and tried to ignore the dance crew of porcupines, circling around like a roundabout. “Can you stop? No one will believe that the next Hokage and the famous slug witch make big, round puppy-eyes like children.”

 

His words had the wished effect. Especially on Sakura. Almost instantly, the kunoichi dropped her childish demeanor. Hearing the nickname the allied shinobi forces gave her after seeing her fight alongside the godlike Naruto and Sasuke, made the girl walk a little straighter and gave her steps a special bounce as she almost floated out of his bedroom.

Just as intended.

When Naruto followed suit, only a tiny rest of the earlier pout on his features, Kakashi stretched, ignoring the pain in his head and the sore feeling of his muscles, the foul taste on his tongue and the hollow feeling of shame already curling again in his chest like a nest of slimy snakes.

His eyes fell on the picture looming right his bed. A grouchy Obito, glaring at a bored Kakashi, a tiny bit bothered Minato who tried to keep his children in check and…

And Rin. Rin, gentle, kind Rin. Murdered, disemboweled, heart crushed and burned and turned to ashes. By him.

His hand tingled, even after all the decades. The lightning seemed to zip through his veins, ran amok in his arm, nearly broke free and through his skin, danced through the air, filled his lungs with ozone and blood…

The morning after the hangover was the worst. And at the same time, the best. It meant that the guilt and shame would lessen over the time. It meant that Kakashi would have another year of relative peace, before the week before the anniversary of Rin’s death would again force him to go into the next best, cheap and dark bar to drink himself under the table and to forget about the expression the brunette showed when his hand broke through her rib cage. The terribly, familiar feeling of his fingers digging deeper and deeper into soft flesh, blood gushing out of the wound and tainting his sleeve. How fresh air cooled his fingers when his hand breached the last barrier, making the hole straight through Rin’s chest complete.

 

A deep breath in. Kakashi’s chest heaved, the air got caught in his throat and only a quick shake of his head and a painful gulp made the ache in his chest bearable.

Without wasting another thought, he grabbed the plate with the scrambled eggs and shoveled the food into his mouth, chasing away the disgusting taste of loss and disgrace. In between, Kakashi sipped at the orange juice and tried to ignore the fact that the voices whispering in his living room weren’t talking about the fact that they had seen his bare face for the first time. No, they whispered and hissed about his untypical way of acting. They had never seen him drink, not to talk about being drunk or even remotely wasted. The last thing they probably expected was to see their sensei totally wasted and as drunk as a skunk, lying on the path in front of his apartment and not able to get inside without the help of another.

They were worried.

Kakashi stared blindly at the plate. Nothing he could do about it. The damage was done, his reputation destroyed (at least the pitiful rests of it) and the last crumbs of respect his students once may have harbored for him gone.

Needless to say, his already sour mood only went worse before Kakashi even had time to pull a sweatshirt over his head. With the mask pulled up to his nose and adjusting the long sweatpants he had slept in, the jonin stumbled into the living room. Not only Naruto and Sakura were there, whispering among themselves and throwing worried glances at him when Kakashi met their eyes. No, also Tenzo, Sai and to his shock, Gai were there. All of them standing or sitting around, waiting and eyeing Kakashi with annoying sympathy, how he stopped in the doorframe and eyed the audience in return, one hand scratching over his stomach and the other tousling through his bad bed hair.

 

“What is going on here?” he asked. “What do I deserve to have so many people visiting me this early in the morning?”

“Oooh, nothing.” Naruto’s laugh was a tad bit nervous. “We just stopped by to…”

“Senpai,” Tenzo chimed in and settled the book he had read while waiting (“How a shinobi would die”, Kakashi noticed), “after yesterday… We thought it would be good to check up on you.”

Sai nodded, all the while flipping through the pages of “Alcoholism: Signs and Recovery”. “This book states that, no matter if you admit to be an alcoholic or not, you need your friends and family due to their ability to provide help and support.”

Maybe it was the hangover. Maybe it was the headache, pounding against his skull and making his head feel like a hammer was constantly working at it. Maybe it was the way how the eyes of his students seemed to soften even more, but right then, right there, Kakashi lost it. Growling lowly like a wolf, he stepped forward and noted with grim satisfaction that all of them took a step backwards. “This is not your business. This is not your problem. I’m not an alcoholic, I have no problem you all should be concerned about. It’s my decision to drink and no one else can and will convince me of anything I don’t want.”

“But there is a problem.” Tenzo said.

Another growl. “No.”

“You just said-!”

“I know what I just said!”

“Kakashi-sensei…” Sakura stepped in, hands raised to diffuse the situation. “Is this probably about Rin Nohara?”

 

_Warm blood running over his hands, twitching and caged by the broken, slender ribs._

_“I didn’t want this! Why, Rin? Why did you-!?”_

_“Sssh.” Her brown eyes were tired and yet so friendly. “It was my decision, Kakashi. Our home is safe. Otherwise…”_

_“NO! I promised to protect you and now Obito will see-!”_

_Obito would know he failed again. Would know Kakashi hadn’t learned anything from his mistakes. Would know he was still a failure, still a mistake, still a loser, not able to protect anything, not able to protect-!_

“I… I know about her. Tsunade-shishou told me. She… Nohara-san was one of the first medic ninja who were trained to work alongside their teams. She was good, according to my shishou. And she was in your team, Kakashi-sensei. Together with Obito and Minato Namikaze. Naruto’s father.”

 

_“This team…” Minato’s blue eyes were creased in his wide grin. “Always remember it, children. This team here, is your family. We support each other, we help each other and we listen when someone has a problem. We have each other’s back’s, got it?”_

_Kakashi raised his hand. “Sensei, what if I don’t want any help?”_

_“That’s your good right too. But always remember, if you need help, no matter how many times you declined it, we always have an open ear for you and your concerns.”_

“Rin Nohara was killed in an incident which also states your name quite a lot, Kakashi-sensei. First, she was captured and according to the report, there was something sealed inside her. The three-tailed beast, the Sanbi. Enemy ninjas tried to use Nohara-san as a bomb, setting her off and killing through her thousands of civilians. You stopped that.”

 

_“Then, screw you. Minato-sensei said we should have each other’s back’s. You’re spitting on his teachings! Just admit it, you never cared for us! If we were a real team, a real family, then you would come with me and try to save Rin!” Obito was pissed. A blind man could see that._

_But Kakashi merely shrugged. “Don’t be ridiculous. Rin knows we have a mission and the mission always comes first. It’s in the rules.”_

_“Screw the rules! Screw the mission! Rin is a friend and I’m going to save her, no matter what you do! She’s our family!”_

_“Not mine.”_

“You saved these lives that day. There’s no reason-!”

“She was my family,” Kakashi roared and glared at Sakura, who recalled Rin’s death like he had nothing to do with it (like his hand hadn’t been in her chest), “and I killed her. I killed her. Not figuratively speaking. My hand was in her chest. I killed my family. I killed all of my family, one by one by one, one after another until there was no one left! You have no idea how it feels like to be responsible for the death of a teammate! None of you ever experienced that, so don’t tell me one of you can relate! You’re not in my shoes, you will never understand unless-!”

“Unless we experienced it ourselves.”

Naruto’s words ripped Kakashi out of his fury. A low hiss escaped as he stepped backwards, the regret of spilling so much spiraling through his mind. Never he wanted to let the people see how broken he was, the least these exact people standing around him. They deserved a not-broken leader, a not-broken Hokage, a person who was able to bear all of this.

Only slowly, syllable by syllable, the weak sentence filtered into his drink-riddled brain. Oh. _Oh._ Another reason to be ashamed. How many times exactly had Sasuke thrown these exact words around, claiming no one would ever understand him because the rest of the world didn’t have a brother who slaughtered the whole family. And Naruto had tried to understand him, always believing in the boy, no matter how many crimes he fulfilled in his uncoordinated search for revenge.

With a tired sigh, Kakashi dragged his hands over his face. He couldn’t look the present people in the eyes any longer, too ashamed and too sore to care if the raw emotions shining through his voice were recognizable or not. “I’m sorry. Please, just forget the careless words of an old man. I’m not myself today.”

 

“No, I can’t.” The blond took a step closer and Kakashi tried to go backwards, but there was the wall in the way. “I will not forget that, Kakashi-sensei. Because you’re one of the first people who believed in me. You fought by my side.” Naruto said, with the same seriousness which had also persuaded Obito to return from his hateful path. “You fought and suffered and sacrificed. Maybe more than most people. And as a student, believe it, is it my duty to make sure you’re alright. And you’re obviously not alright.” Another step and the silver-haired man started to panic slightly. Quickly, Kakashi’s eyes flittered to Tenzo, who only stared solemnly back, not willing to raise a hand to save his senpai from the true words of Naruto. “And as a friend, I have to help you. I will listen and I will try to understand your pain. We all want to help you,” the blond gestured over the present people, “We all care about you. And seeing you drunk like yesterday was scary, because I would’ve never pictured you as someone who would let go like… like this, believe it.”

Sakura pushed her fist into the air, a just as kind as fierce expression on her face. “Of course! Shannaro!”

“You’re my senpai,” Yamato exclaimed and finally put the dreaded book down, “and you helped me to climb out of Root. I’m there if you need a helping hand. Or two,” he added, all the while his fingers entangled themselves with each other.

Sai nodded only. It was enough. (Every word the boy could’ve said would’ve been a lie at worst and a hidden insult anyway.)

He had no idea what he should say. Flabbergasted, groggy and still a bit hungover, Kakashi’s eyes jumped from one person to the next, unsure where to settle on and his mouth unsure what to say. There were so many emotions swirling through his brain, so many things to consider and so many excuses to bring up why this was a terrible idea, but…

But Kakashi couldn’t bring himself to destroy their attempts. Slash them down like he had slashed down other attempts of looking behind his nonchalant façade, always on guard and always maintaining the secretive, mysterious aura around him.

No one was able to hurt him. No one’s death would destroy him if he was alone.

 

But these young people, these comrades… They had seen the worst of him, in more than one way. They had seen the good (if there was any in Kakashi), the bad (plenty to see and experience) and the ugly (where should he even start?). They didn’t shy away. Only opend their arms and wanted to help.

Like…

Kakashi swallowed the lump in his throat down. Tears burned in his eyes, not quite spilling yet and already threatening to overwhelm him. “Okay,” he croaked out, “Okay. You win.”

Maybe. Maybe it was time to allow himself some happiness. It was time, he figured after a while. It was time. Obito was dead for real now. Rin was long gone, sacrificed herself (notkillednotkillednotkilled). Minato, also a sacrifice to sustain the village and ultimately, also Kakashi.

Maybe, he should allow himself to live a little. At least, Kakashi tried to tell that himself when Naruto and Sakura jumped at him with relief oozing out of them, hugging him in a big, ridiculous display of care, while Yamato chuckled at their attics and Sai already dug into his backpack to get a scroll to draw on.

Maybe he had a family again.


End file.
